Choreography
by kickslikeapony
Summary: Derek spends his birthday evening choreographing for that song for Ivy and Karen. Or not. One-shot.


Derek sat, staring blankly at the miniature stage in front of him. Tom had thrown a new song at him. "Give me the song for Ivy and Karen," he had said. What had possessed him to include Karen in that song, Derek couldn't fathom. Tom Levitt had staunchly been Ivy's cheerleader since day one, but Derek had had better things to worry about when Tom started to badger him about it.

Now, though, he was starting to get a headache staring at the miniature actors on the miniature stage. He wasn't exactly getting any epiphanies about the choreography, and his mind was starting to wander off in tangents.

He had also played the song – or at least, Tom's version of the song – enough times to get it stuck in his head. So it wasn't a bad song; it was actually rather good.

Back to work, back to work. People were always complaining about writers' block; this now was director's block and it was goddamn terrible, what with Rebecca being a handful as well.

Zanuck centerstage. All the boys exiting. The backdrop coming down… Ivy would have to enter somewhere…

Derek stood, and started pacing in the room, his left arm crossed over his chest, as his right rubbed his temple. The stage, the stage… At that point there would be an armchair on stage right, a couch upstage from Zanuck, a desk on stage left with a chair.

Ivy would be on the chair, of course. Aside from the bed that was where she had left her deepest impression. At her callback, reading the Dimaggio scene. Ivy was confident. She was vulnerable but strong. She knew what she was doing, in all senses of the phrase. She would walk over to Zanuck, like how she had paced the room, trying to get into Marilyn's head. She would show off her curves. She would try to seduce Zanuck.

He was actually getting work done. Maybe this visualisation thing worked better. That contraption had never really helped him much with solving problems. Just with the finalising of the blocking.

They would stay by the desk? _No_, Derek corrected himself, _no. They would go over to the couch._

Because it was now Karen's part, and with Karen it would always be the couch. It wasn't like he could ever forget it. She was a sight to behold, walking towards him, wearing nothing but his white shirt. A messy head of curls framing her face, scared and wide-eyed just moments before, but now alluring and seductive. Her long legs, bare and straddling him…

Derek grabbed a bottle of scotch, taking a long drink from it. _Now, where was I?_

_Right, the couch._

Karen would appear from behind the couch. She would jump into Zanuck's lap on the couch, then roll away, like the tease she was. _And there was something in the lyrics about making a splash, wasn't there? _Derek stalked back to the little stage on his table, and rearranged the figures on stage. _Splash there would be_, he decided. Karen would roll away to the other end of the couch and dive back into Zanuck's lap.

And then the entire chorus would come in – all the females, at least. _They should just all pop out from behind the couch_, Derek thought, drinking more of the scotch. They would all take turns falling onto Zanuck.

But _what_ would they do? He still had to choreograph for each of them. This was truly getting to be a terrific birthday, choreographing for a song that had yet to be titled. After all, it had been cut from Heaven on Earth, and retooled for Bombshell with a few edits to make it "relevant".

Derek took another swig from the bottle, before cracking his neck. Time for a little visit to Miss Rebecca Duvall. He needed some fucking to take his mind off things, and she couldn't have been more obvious. Feeding him cake, of all things! Well, it would serve to accomplish a few other goals.

Like calming her nerves, what with the Ted fiasco and all the problems with the costumes. He wasn't going to let the show flop. He had made a decision to get aboard the Marilyn ship and he never made wrong decisions.

Choreography would have to wait. Who knows, maybe a trip to bed with Rebecca would inspire him.


End file.
